Escapade
by Avaunt
Summary: The Love of Aslan is eternal and unconditional no matter where Peter maybe. Crossover LOTR R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of C.S Lewis's books

**Escapade**

By Avaunt

He stood in front of the wraiths, his stance unwavering. The air around the black kings seemed to be drenched with evil as they continued their way over to the creatures standing behind them. A crisp sound of metal rang through the air as Peter drew his sword and pointed it at the dark riders. His bright blue eyes iced over and then the High King spoke, his voice rang with immense authority; the power of Aslan rippling and rushing outward.

"Leave them."

The riders stopped their decent, caught off guard by the untold power that flowed outward from the boy like ripples in a pond.

Peter could not see their eyes, and inwardly shiver at the sudden stab of fear. _Aslan help me!_ Pushing any doubt to the back of his mind, he forced himself to relax as he shifted his weight the way he was taught to.

Then suddenly with an unearthly shriek, they attacked.

One flew right past him, but Peter could not turn to intercept for several more were upon him, their swords drawn. He distantly wondered what they could possible want before he raised his sword and stopped thinking at all. He acted on instinct, his mind and body connecting as one. The fight was a blur of metal as attack after attack was blocked and then countered.

Turning swiftly, Peter ducked then raised his sword to block a swing aimed for his head. His confidence in his blade did not falter as he circled around, darting in and out, and his blade gleaming. Three circled him, wary now as they sensed no fear from the mere mortal.

Blue eyes grew staid as a stabbing shriek pierced the dark sky. Swing his opponent's sword away from him; he barely managed to block another blow that forced him to retreat, loose valuable ground.

The dark riders shrieked in triumph, as they closed in.

But then Peter's face grew hard and the anger that had been quietly building up unleashed. Strength flow back and High King straightened. Blue ice narrowed, and the mask of a mere boy shattered, a regal might blazing though. With a cry, he went on the offensive, determined to force the shadow creatures to face the real threat... him.

Suddenly a figure dressed in browns and greens jumped out of the trees, carrying a torch. He ran at the dead kings, whirling the flames around him like a club. With another unearthly shriek, the riders of Sauron backed away, fleeing from the burning heat that threatened to harm them. And then it was over.

Peter finally came to a halt breathing heavily. The power of Aslan seemed to leave him, and his now sore muscles screamed for attention. That however did not sweep away years of hard won lessons and Peter did not lower his guard as he surveyed the area, suddenly wishing for his brother Ed to be at his side.

The man bearing the torch, and a four other small odd creatures with large hairy feet huddled together. Peter watched them cautiously. As he continued to observe them he could see that one of the child-like creatures had been stabbed, his big blue eyes were glazed over with pain.

The gravel cracked beneath his as he shifted his weight. Seconds later he was pushed back into a tree, a blade was at his throat and Peter found himself staring into intense hazel eyes.

"Who are you?" The man asked, his voice as strong and inflexible as steel. "Speak now!"

Peter stared into the stranger's eyes steadily, keeping his face firm despite the pounding of his heart. He raised an eyebrow and casually shrugged, "I believe that you should remove your blade sir." His eyes traveled downward to his unsheathed dagger that was pressed up against the mans gut.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked sharply paying no need to the dagger. An air of nobility surrounded the man, causing Peter a brief hesitation.

"Lending a hand to those in need." Peter's voice was steady and rang true. Then he shrugged, "I was just in the right place at the right time."

Suspicion still clouded the man gaze and his eyes narrowed. "Not many travel this path, this late at night. What do you gain?"

The High King narrowed his eyes in response "I gain nothing but the chance to uphold my honor, and those who came before me."

"Strider!" One of the child-like creatures cried. "Its alright, he helped us, he fought them and everything, like a knight from one of Bilbo's stories!"

"Frodo needs help" Another added pleadingly, worry and fear apparent in his voice.

Strider stepped back and looked Peter up and down. He nodded; he could feel no taint within the boy before him. "Are you hurt?" His voice was softer this time, and Peter shook his head, as the last of his adrenaline faded away. Wherever the wraiths were; they were nowhere near here, the sickly shadows fading from Peter's senses.

"Alright, come with us, I may need your help."

Peter nodded, secretly not wanting to wander around these unfamiliar woods alone. Squatting down next to the small patient, he took a small look at the wound. It was not deep, but black poison seemed to spread outward from the wound like a spider's web. Wincing, he quickly looked up at Strider, a sympathetic look on his young face. "That doesn't look so good."

"It's not. Frodo must get help quickly."

Peter caught the older mans eyes, his blues eyes shinning with royal intensity. "What can I do to help?"

"Have you ever cleaned a wound before?" Peter nodded. Strider handed him a leather poach, "Alright, I need to go get some more herbs. I will only be gone a moment."

Peter quickly unsheathed his sword, and placed it on the ground beside him within easy reached. Then he got to work, cleaning the sword wound. As he worked he was began to sing softly, trying to bring the little Halfling some measure of peace. Strider watched the boy with interest, before turning and melting into the forest.

A day had passed and much had changed within the little traveling group. Frodo was gone, whisked away by a friend of Striders. An elf to be exact. Peter smiled softly as he remembered what the feeling of awe that sprung within him when he first saw the beautiful elf maiden. He wished Lucy could have seen her; she would have loved it… Suddenly his good mood faded as he thought of his siblings. He wondered if they were still in England, safe and sound, or if they too were transported into this reality.

He had no doubt that Aslan had a hand in him coming to Middle Earth. After all, when he had come to in the middle of the forest, the first thing he had noticed was that he had his sword back. Peter's frown deepened as he thought of how prepared he was for this strange land. It was not that he was ungrateful for his possession from Narina, but what did it all mean?

He also could not help but feel guilty. When it was known, that Frodo was going to be taken ahead, Peter could not help but feel a rush of relief. Being around Frodo made his skin crawl, something just didn't feel _right _about the hobbit.

Suddenly a voice dragged him out of his deep thoughts. He looked up and could not help but smile as he saw Pippin. He had joined their traveling group long, but he could not help but like the little hobbits, Pippin especially. He reminded him so much of Lucy, it was scary.

"I am sorry Pippin; I was too lost in my thoughts. What did you say?"

Pippin rolled his eyes. "I asked where you were from." A hint of impatience colored his words.

Up a head Strider perked up, he too had been wondering that question. It was not as if he perceived the young boy, Peter, a threat. For if he had, his body would be laying in the woods somewhere. But that did not mean he was not curious. His young human companion held him self with a confidence and grace that was well beyond his years.

Peter thought about the question for awhile, not quite sure what to say. It was obvious he could not say anything about England, they would never believe him. He smirked slightly to himself, recognizing the irony that now England seemed more unbelievable then Narnia.

"Well I grew up on a farm, not far from here actually." He started out slowly, not wanting to stubble and be caught in his lie. "That's why I'm traveling, the harvest didn't bring enough in to feed my siblings and so I'm looking for some work."

Strider thought about it and then asked another question. "Where did you learn your skill with a blade?"

"My father's a retired solider." Peter answered, secretly pleased that he did not technically lie, nor did he voice waver. Quickly he changed the topic. "What about you, Pippin? Where do you come from?"

A dreamy expression came over the hobbit's face and he sighed. "I come from the Shire, the best place in the whole world!" And then he was off, painting a picture of rolling green hills and merry hobbit folk. Occasionally, Merry and Sam would pitch in, telling a different view or story. Soon everyone's problems were forgotten, at least for a moment.

Except Strider that is. He narrowed his green hazel eyes at Peter, who was laughing at the antics of Pippin and Merry. He did not miss Peter's blatant change of topic, and now wondered what the blond haired boy was trying to hide.

The time flew by without incident, and it was not long before Strider announced that they had passed into the realm of Rivendell. The House of Rivendell rose up from the forest as if it too had been grown from Mother Earth. The workmanship of the elves blended perfectly with the forest. It was hard to identify where one stopped and the other began.

As they rode up to the gates of Rivendell the sight filled Peter with awe, and suddenly the longing for Narnia dimmed somewhat, as if his subconscious sensed he was on his way home.

He wasn't sure why he was here, or if indeed he would be here for long. But the High King knew that he was not alone. For naught can overcome the love and protection of Aslan.

But in the mean time, Peter decided to enjoy the new adventure set before him.

**The End**

* * *

So what did you think? Read and Review!!


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or C.S Lewis

**Escapade**

_Chapter Two_

By Avaunt

Peter slowly walked around his temporary quarters, taking the beautiful workmanship of the elves in with an unrestrained sense of awe and appreciation. He fingered the delicately carved bed frame, the smooth touch of the wood foreign, yet comfortable under his callused fingers. Whether by luck or fate, his room intensely reminded him of his old bedroom in Narnia. But then again, this world seemed to have many similarities when compared to Narnia. It only made the homesickness in his gut churn even more.

Despite that, the moment Peter had decided to stay briefly in Rivendell, a deep sense of righteous calm had settled over him. He had a feeling, an instinct that he was meant to be here.

"Your room suits you?"

Peter whirled around and inwardly frowned slightly. He had not even heard the Ranger approached. He would hate to think that his skills had gotten that rusty! Never less, he smiled brightly at Strider, gesturing the man to come in.

"They are beautiful. The elves workmanship is… unbelievable." He softly touched one of the hand carved bedposts.

Aragorn smiled slightly, as if this reaction was a common occurrence. "I will be sure to pass on your compliments." He took a step forward. "Now come, changed out of your travel wear."

For the first time, Peter noticed the bundle of blue clothing Aragorn carried. He shook his head. "I couldn't possibly… I have nothing to trade."

Aragorn shook his head and laughed. "You owe me nothing." And without waiting for Peter's reply, he unceremoniously dumped them onto the bed. "Now quickly get changed." Aragorn ordered briskly. "There will be a council meeting in two bells. Lord Elrond expects you to be there."

Peter quickly popped his head through the blue tunic. The cloth was silky smooth, and felt as soft as cotton. It was as fine as any royal garb that Peter had once owned. He smiled to himself in appreciation. It seemed that elves made even the simplest garment into a work of art.

Once again, Peter was strongly reminded of Narnia. Peter could feel the sensation of aching homesickness begin to bubble within his chest. He looked at his new friend and concentrated on his request, anything to distract him from the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

"Why would I have to go to such a meeting?" The High King looked at Strider carefully, his blue eyes momentarily turning icy as his thoughts churned. "I am of no importance here."

The sudden change in demeanor did not go unnoticed by Aragorn. But before Aragorn could read anything else from the icy gaze, Peter's eyes quickly warmed, leaving only open curiosity and confusion in its wake.

"You were instrumental in the protection of the four Hobbits. Lord Elrond would like the council to hear your point of view of the attack. It is not often that a mere mortal can enter battle against a handful of Nazgul and emerge victorious."

Peter shook his head and smiled. "That was more you're doing then mine, I'm afraid." He was no fool. Peter could tell there was more reasoning behind his requested appearance. After all he was not just being humble when he pointed on Aragorn's contribution. His presence had only really delayed the creatures until Aragorn had arrived.

Aragorn shook his head. "Do not shy away from credit, my friend." Strong, wise hazel eyes met steely cerulean. "I owe you my eternal gratitude." It was silent for a moment as each solider stared at each other. No words crossed the distance between them, but before long a deep, respectful understanding was reached. Peter instinctively knew that Aragorn did not completely trust him, but for the moment was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

A soft rumble suddenly broke the silence into millions of jagged pieces. Both men looked at Peter's stomach. The owner in question blushed furiously. For a split second, Aragorn could not help but marvel at how young Peter suddenly seemed.

"There wouldn't happen to be a kitchen on the way… would there?" Peter asked meekly, rubbing his hungry and demanding stomach.

Aragorn laughed, catching both of them slightly off guard. "If we leave quickly I am sure I can get the kitchen staff to smuggle you some Limbas." Aragorn gestured for Peter to follow him, and with quick steps that suggested familiarity, headed down to the kitchens. "I have much to tell you before the Council begins."

Peter quickly buckled his sword, and headed after the older man. "What's Limbas?"

LORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLORCONLOR

Legolas's eyebrows peeked in interest as he observed the stranger sitting comfortably by Estel's side. The boy was easily the youngest in the room, and his presence puzzled the woodland elf. He looked around, noticing that the young boy's presence had also attracted the attention of the other occupants in the room.

Unconsciously, Legolas's forehead creased in dislike as he turned his attention to the loud and bawdy race, the dwarves. How on earth they managed to live in the ground constantly was still a mystery to him. They were so uncivilized!

Elrond stood up, quickly capturing Legolas's attention. "Strangers form distant lands, friends from old; you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." The Elf lord paused and looked around the council hall. Legolas eyes narrowed, as the Lord's impenetrable stare seemed to rest longer on both the boy and the hobbit. "Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall." Legolas made brief eye contact with Estel.

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." The little hobbit got up from his seat and slowly walked over to the pedestal in the centre of the circular room. Slowly, almost reluctantly he placed a small, plain gold ring on the stone pedestal.

Almost immediately a soft, uneasy muttering sound broke out throughout the war council. No single race was unaffected by the evil, seductive aura that the Ring produced. Peter shifted in his seat as he realized the source of his earlier discomfort.

"So it is true." The words were soft spoken; yet they still managed to reach the ears of every single occupant in the room. Peter's attention was drawn to the wide shouldered man, sitting three seats down from him.

The man got up and walked to the centre of the room "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark but in the west a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane has been found." Throughout his speech he slowly walked closer to the pedestal, almost as if he was being drawn in not of his own accord. Hypnotically he reached forward to grasp the ring…

"Boromir!" Lord Elrond thundered, shooting up from his thrown alarmed. Peter's eyes widened slightly, and he too leaned out of his seat.

Across from him, the old man dressed in grey rose and from his lips thundered out a speech so dark and vile it hurt Peter's ears to listen to it. Not since the White Witch had Peter heard such power come from mere words. A shiver traveled down his spine.

Peter was not the only one affected. The man, Boromir, stumbled back; looking around as if wakening up from a trance. Quickly through, the warrior regained his footing. He did not sit down. Instead, Boromir looked around the council.

"Why not use this Ring?" His voice rang with misplaced conviction. "Long has the Steward of Gondor, my father, held back the forces of Mordor. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!" His voice trembled with unrestrained emotion. He raised his hand and clenched his fist. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

Peter's eyes narrowed. This did not sound like a good idea. He could feel the aura of the Ring almost pulse with energy. He opened his mouth to comment, when a voice next to him swiftly cut him off.

"You can not weld it. None of us can!" Peter looked sideways at his companion, noticing the slightly commanding tone underneath the Ranger's objection. "The One Ring answer's to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir whirled around and stared at the Ranger. "And what would a Ranger know of these matters?"

Legolas, unable to contain himself any longer, angrily stood up. "This is no mere Ranger; He is Aragorn son of Arathron. You own him your allegiance."

Boromir looked over at Aragorn in disbelief. Peter frowned. _Why was did it matter who Strider's family was_? He glanced over at his friend and could see that Aragorn was not too happy that this information was out.

"He is the heir to the throne of Gondor!"

Peter glanced over at Aragorn sharply, suddenly seeing the Ranger in a new light.

"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King." Boromir's voice shot out, harsh and unforgiving. He stared at Aragorn with contempt and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

"Do not be a fool." The council room became stark silent as a new voice spoke up. It was Aragorn's turn to glance at his companion in surprise. Peter did not raise his voice, but there was no denying the icy authority in his tone. The High King straightened in his seat, not breaking his cold gaze with the warrior of Gondor. He had enough of this pompous, arrogant nobleman.

Legolas and everyone else in the council watched silently in surprise as the young man began to address the council, wielding an almost casual power that added strength to his words. "You claim that Gondor need's no King, yet you cannot even see past the deceptive surface that the Ring represents." The High King narrowed his eyes. "Even now, you are letting the mistakes of the past cloud your judgment of the presence."

The High King continued his voice still deceptively calm. Which made the words all the more potent "This battle is so much bigger then just you're Kingdom. In order for this threat to be defeated you all must unite and present a strong front." Ice blue pierced the council. "By bickering with each other, you only give your enemy another weapon he can exploit. And if you can't see that… then Aslan help us all." A soft subtle aura seemed to surround the High King before it disappeared. Peter stared at Boromir for a heart beat longer before breaking eye contact with the older man.

Peter knew it was not particularly wise to draw attention to himself. If Susan was here he was sure she would have a few words to say at his recklessness but he had no intention of becoming involved in the internal politics of another country. His interruption had to be done. Peter was no stranger when it came to dealing with a council. It was important that they stayed on task. And today that task was what to do with the deceptively simple gold ring.

"And who are you boy; that allows you to address me in such a manor?" Boromir's voice rang out, irritation ringing in his tone. He was not used to being spoken in such a manner.

Peter looked over at Aragorn apologetically, apart of him feeling guilty for the earlier lie, and then turned to face Boromir. "My name is Peter Pervenise, and I hail from a land called Narnia, across the endless sea."

At his declaration, a fury of gasps and out right denials broke out. Angrily, some members of the council stood up. For his part, Aragorn looked over at Peter in surprise. The teenage faced the on slot with a cool, blank expression. As if he was used to this particular reaction, or something like it.

"Impossible! Do not waste the time of this council with fairy tales boy!" One dwarf cried out. Others shouted out their agreement.

"Enough!" Lord Elrond roared. In the deafening silence that followed, Gandalf stood up, a seriousness in his eyes that captured the attention of the entire room.

"The boy speaks the truth. The Edar sent him from the wandering land in our time of need. And the time is indeed dire, and our need indeed great." He locked eyes with Peter for a moment. "Question his integrity at your own discretion." He voice grew even graver. "But now is not the time for our focus to be divided. There is the Ring that must be dealt with."

Gandalf sat back in his chair. "Aragorn is right, you can not wield it."

Elrond rose gracefully to his feet. Abstractly, Peter noticed that elves seemed to do everything gracefully. "You only have one choice." He looked around the circular room. "The Ring must be destroyed."

A dwarf stood up, "Well, what are we waiting for?" With a mighty heave he swung his ax down at the Ring. The air cracked and the Dwarf was flung backwards, his ax shattered into pieces. On the pedestal, the gold ring remained; completely unharmed.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft we here posses." Elrond scowled at the dwarf lightly. "The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there it can be unmade." Men, elves and dwarves alike shifted nervously at this news. _That doesn't sound very cheery_, Peter thought, noticing the sudden tension.

Lord Elrond continued. "It must be taking deep into the lands of Mordor, and cast back into the fiery depths from which it came." He paused. "One of you must do this."

The council room became dead silent, each contemplating the task ahead. Peter sat deep in thought. Out of one ear, he could vaguely here Boromir describe the dangers Mordor possessed. Peter paid little attention to what he said. He knew that despite the dangers, the Ring must be destroyed.

Lord Elrond never said it was going to be easy.

He also knew why Aslan sent him here. _I hope next time he'll send me somewhere _**not**_ on the brink of destruction! _Peter grinned slightly at the thought.

Suddenly the shouts and cries of the council members jostled him back to reality. In surprise he looked up to see much of the council up in arms. _What in Lion's Mane happened! _He thought incredibly, unable to believe the chaos that suddenly surrounded him. For a moment, Peter could do nothing but stared wide eyed at the antics. Then a small movement caught his eyes.

"**I will take it**!" Frodo yelled.

The council grew silent and turned to stare at the small Hobbit.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor." Frodo continued softly. "…Though I do not know the way."

Gandalf closed his eyes in regret, and opened them. "I will help bare this burden, as long as it is yours to bare." He moved over to the Hobbit and gentle rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Peter looked over sharply as Aragorn stood. "If by my life or my death I can protect you, I will." He walked over to Frodo and kneeled, never breaking eye contact with the small hero. "You have my sword."

Legolas stood. "And my bow."

"And my ax." Gimli added gruffly.

Boromir walked over to Frodo. "You hold the fate of us all in your hands, little one." He paused, and for the first time Peter could see the strength and nobility this man possessed. "If this is the will of the Council, then Gondor shall see it done."

Finally the High King rose, drawing curious eyes. He walked forward, smoothly drawing his sword as he went. "You have faced this challenge with far more courage and honor than anyone in this room." He knelt in front of his sword; "I offer my services to you in these trying times. As long as I draw breath, you will not fail." He looked up: inflexible cerulean meeting stormy blue. "_In Aslan's Name._" A hum of power briefly filled the room.

_By Aslan mane, I hope I did the right thing. _


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own CON or LOTR

**Escapade **

_Chapter 3_

By Avaunt

The newly formed Fellowship of the Ring departed the next day. In true elvish fashion the quick preparation seemed effortless, and all the companions were fitted with only the finest gear. Peter walked comfortably besides Pippen and Merry, the excited hobbits already chronicling their adventure into a song.

Peter smiled softly to himself. It was plain to see that Frodo's friends did not completely grasp the danger their mission promised. To them, it still seemed like a heroic folklore: one where the hero bravely faced danger and emerged victorious. While those stories were lovely to hear around a campfire, they often omitted many details. One of these details the hero's mortality.

But Peter could not judge his small, vivacious friends. He himself had once been in the same dangerous situation: way over his head and not even realizing it. Peter looked down at Merry, who had gone back to bothering poor Sam, and his blue eyes darkened slightly. He hoped that when reality hit, the blow would not be too hard. But Peter knew that hope was naively optimistic.

His train of thought was abruptly halted by another, far more amusing realization. By Lions Mane! He was starting to sound like Edmund! That startling thought allowed a small chuckle to escape.

Gimli looked back at Peter curiously. "You believe this to be a fool's errand too, boy?"

Peter looked at the stunted, stalwart dwarf that reminded himself so much of Trumpkin, and smiled. He sped up to walk along side his new companion, the gravel barely crackling underneath his feet. "No, I was thinking about how my brother Edmund would react to all of this." He made a vague gesture with his hand, encompassing the whole party.

"And what would he say?"

Peter smiled softly, a far away look in his eyes. "He'd tell me that I'm idiotic and to noble for my own good. That I was going to get myself killed."

Gimli nodded, "Sounds like a sensible brother you've got there."

Peter barked out a laugh. "I forgot to mention that he'd be walking beside me the whole way!"

Gimli looked at Peter, noticing the way his blue eyes softened and how his hand gripped his scabbard. "You miss him." He stated plainly, not dancing around with flowery words. Such were the ways of a dwarf.

"Very much so. My sisters too." He paused. "But I am glad they are not here." -_And not in danger_. The unsaid words were heard clearly by the dwarf.

"Aye. I can see that they are very important to you."

Peter looked over at Gimli, and the dwarf suddenly found himself staring into cerulean eyes much to old for the body of a teenager. "They are my world." Peter replied softly "Their protection comes before all else." Even the life of a High King, after all, he was their older brother; he could do no less.

The dwarf found he could say nothing to that, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. After a moment though, Gimli looked over at his new companion and asked: "We have too far to walk without something to pass the time. Tell me about your siblings Peter."

Peter's eyes lit up and he laughed. "It would be my pleasure Master Dwarf!" And so, Peter and Gimli passed the time laughing at the antics of Lucy and her animals, Edmund and his troublesome wit and Susan's mother hen ways.

As Peter regained the breath that was stolen by his laughter, he turned to Gimli, a more serious look in his eyes. "Would you mind answering a question of mine Master Gimli?"

Gimli finished chuckling and wiped a tear from his eye. "Just Gimli my boy, and if I am able, I will answer."

"Why was the thought of Narnia so unbelievable?" Peter asked, thinking back to the council's reaction.

Gimli rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "The land of Narnia is known only through stories. My people have passed down tales of the wandering land for generations. It is said that it is constantly on the move, disappearing and reappearing randomly throughout history."

"So it has become nothing more then a myth." Peter murmured softly, a sad look on his face.

Gimli snuck a glance at the boy. "My people have long memories and we write down our history in stone. Narnia is depicted several times within our records and even then some critics dispel its existence." He huffed. "As if a dwarf would ever believe in a fairy tale! We are sensible folk with two feet always on the ground!"

Peter smiled. "So you believe in Narnia?"

"You're here aren't you?" Gimli pointed out, as if that proved everything. "But I must warn you, some races, man especially, believe that it does not exist. And elves are just as bad."

Peter nodded, ignoring the jab at the elves. He did not want to get in between that feud. Legolas and Gimli had already butted heads more then once on this journey. Some fights, he had learned from years of overseeing subject's disputes, were just better spent on the sidelines.

"I am not surprised your Narnia has shown up again."

Peter looked over at Gimli in surprise. "Why not?"

"Narnia always seems to show up when everything goes to hell."

*******7*******

"Finally!" Pippen exclaimed in relief as he plopped down. "I thought we were never going to stop!" He rubbed his hairy feet, a look of exhaustion on his face. Peter looked down and smiled at his little friend. Secretly, he was pleased for the stop too. Gandalf and Aragorn had pushed the Fellowship hard; Peter was surprised at the amount of ground they had covered.

"We have much more land to cover, Master Took." Admonished Gandalf. "This is just the beginning."

Pippen scolded slightly before breaking out into a huge grin. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pipe. "Luckily then I brought enough to share!" Gandalf shook his head and chuckled, a sparkle in his normally serious eyes. Peter noticed with amusement that the wizard wasted no time in sitting down beside the Hobbit.

"Peter." At the sound of his name, Peter turned around to see Aragorn beckoning him over. "I'm going to scout the area, would you go with Legolas to find firewood?"

Peter nodded. "Of course!" He looked over at the golden haired elf, and teased. "I only hope that I can keep up with him."

Legolas bowed gravely, but Peter did not miss the sparkle of mischief in the elf's blue eyes. "Do not worry Peter. I will make sure you do not wander off and get lost."

Peter bowed in response. "My thanks Master Elf." He answered seriously, not betraying his amusement. He highly doubted he would get lost. While he wasn't a wood-elf, he had been literally taught by the trees of the forest. He felt very confident in his woodwork.

An hour later, Peter stomped back into camp, a frustrated look on his face. He still couldn't believe he had gotten lost! The reality of the situation was so incredible, so ridiculous that Peter just wanted to punch something. He looked at the silent trees accusingly. In Narnia, no two trees ever looked the same, and they also were never silent! The trees here were so…dead in comparison to the magic back home. Peter glared at the trees again.

"Your back!" Borimir's voice dragged Peters thoughts back to reality. "I was afraid we were going to have to send out a search party." His tone was mild, but Peter could still hear the amusement underneath. Peter reddened slightly as he put down the wood he managed to collect.

The relationship between Borimir and him was… strained at best. Peter knew that the man was still blistering from the verbal lashing he had received at the council and in order to avoid any conflict Peter had so far kept his distance. But that did not stop the man of Gondor from making rude comments. Although slow to anger, Peter was not sure how much more attitude he was willing to take.

"Enough" Aragorn cut in before Peter could reply. "Come sit by the fire Peter, we have much to discuss."

Feeling slightly like a naughty schoolboy, Peter strolled over to Aragorn and sat, grabbing the offered stew with thanks. Blowing on a piece of meat slightly, he took a bite and almost died. "This is bloody brilliant!" The blend of spices added just enough to the tender meat, making every bite delicious. Much better then any of the traveling rations Peter had ever had!

Aragorn smiled. "It is not the way of the elves to do anything half-way."

Peter took another bite and sighed blissfully. If only he had this on his numerous campaigns!

Aragorn watched the younger man dig into his meal with relish, a small smile on his face. After Peter had finished his meal, Aragorn spoke up again. His voice was quiet, mild even, but there was no mistaking the firm tone. "Will you show me your skills with a blade once again?" Despite the wording, Peter was not fooled into thinking it was a request and the High King looked at the Ranger quietly.

"Why?" The High King asked, cerulean blue eyes searching, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on his knee. Aragorn straighten minutely, suddenly feeling as he was being judged. Aragorn marveled at the shifting demeanor of the young man in front of him. While Peter mostly behaved like a young man on an adventure, there would be times when his disposition would alter and Aragorn would witness wisdom far older then Peter's outward appearance.

"I need to know your strengths and weakness." Aragorn responded frankly. "I'd rather not find out in the middle of a battle."

The High King nodded and Peter suddenly broke out into a smile. "Sure, why not? Could be fun."

Aragorn nodded. "Excellent."

Peter stood up and stretched. "It has been a while since I have had a proper spar." He grinned at the Ranger. Back in Cair Paravel, it had been a morning ritual to spar with General Otim. The centaur had insisted on the daily practice; once even stating that it would be good for the King's ego to be knocked on his ass daily. Peter always enjoyed the bone-weary exercise and drills. It was only time during the day Peter could just stop thinking and do.

Aragorn shook his head. "I will not be sparring with you I'm afraid." He looked around the campsite, his gaze searching until they settled on Borimir. Peter followed his gaze and visible winced. Why did he have a sudden feeling that this 'friendly' spar was not going to turn out very well?

Aragorn called over Borimir and after waiting a beat, just to show that he wasn't following orders, the Man of Gondor sauntered over, his stride relaxed and confident. Peter nervously watched the man walk over. This was not going to help the growing tension between them, of that Peter was certain. The young man looked down at Aragorn, wondering what the man was thinking. It was impossible not to notice the strain between Borimir and Peter. What was Aragorn hoping to accomplish with this?

"If it pleases you, Peter is looking for a sparring partner." Aragorn asked casually, deliberately not looking at Peter.

Borimir looked sideways at the young boy, his thoughts carefully hidden. "Is that so?"

Peter inwardly sighed, knowing he could not back out now without looking like a complete jerk. Using years of diplomacy experience, Peter smiled pleasantly at his companion. "I would be honored." He paused, and decided that it couldn't hurt to add: "I have heard that the Men of Gondor possess great skill with a blade."

Borimir narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "Aye, that is true." He looked Peter up and down. "It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know."

Peter _almost_ rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he said nothing about a lesson. He wished vainly for Edmund, whose scathing tongue would have cut this man down ages ago. But Peter did not possess his brother's gift with words and only nodded, making sure to smile blandly. _And Susan says I lack patience! _Peter thought, as he followed Borimir to a clearing.

"You are taking too much enjoyment out of this, Estel." Legolas whispered into Aragorn's ear, his tone amused. Aragorn jumped slightly, not hearing the wood-elf approach. He turned his head and glared at his old friend.

"I am not!" He denied, although his lips twitched with amusement. "I truly need to assess Peter's skill."

Legolas snorted, a very human mannerism that he had picked up from Estel. "I would have been willing to spar." He pointed out. "You know those two have been fighting since the council, though I must say, that Peter has obviously tried to avoid it."

Aragorn nodded. "That is why I choose Borimir. I will not have their… argument affect the mission. It will be dealt with today."

Legolas nodded, and offered a hand up to his friend. "I hope you are right Estel. Come, it looks like they are about to start."

Peter drew his sword, the metal blade as sharp as the day he received it from Father Christmas. He swung Rhindon experimentally, and like always, found the balance and weight to be perfect. The hilt melded perfectly into his hand and Peter felt himself grin. Lion's Mane, he loved his sword!

He looked over at Borimir, and found the solider studying him. "First one to draw blood?" The man called out across the clearing.

Peter nodded. "Agreed."

The two warriors made eye contact and both bowed. Then, without anymore warning, Borimir took the offensive with a wild cry. Peter bent his knees and stood his ground, bring Rhindon up in a circular swing to meet Borimir's first powerful blow. The blades met with a shrilling clang, and Peter stumbled slightly under the broad, powerful sword. Cerulean eyes narrowed and he strengthened his grip, using the other man's momentum to veer the sword away from him.

Peter shifted his weight and darted to the side, careful to keep Borimir in front of him. Peter was not a grown man of thirty anymore and could not rely on the raw strength he one time possessed. He'd have to avoid direct confrontation and rely more on his agility in this fight.

Borimir attacked again, and all conscious thought fled Peter's mind. His body and mind acted as one as he nimbly dodged and countered Borimir's blows. Borimir continued to press, never once letting up on the offense.

Legolas and Aragorn watched with interest as the young man continued to hold his own against Borimir. Their blades were a blur of silver, always in constant rapid and deadly motion. Aragorn's eyes narrowed as Peter suddenly ducked and fluidly shifted his grip on his sword.

"It seems young Peter is tired of playing defensively." Murmured Legolas, catching the same change as Aragorn had.

Peter lowered into a slightly different crouch and waited for Borimir's next move. He did not have to wait long. But instead of dodging, Peter met the blow straight on, gritting his teeth as he pushed the sword back. Then by slightly shifting his weight, he pulled back abruptly. Borimir stumbled.

There!

Peter did not waste a second. He immediately countered, darting into new opening with deadly speed. Like metal silk, Peter wrapped Rhindon around Borimir's sword and tugged, trying to rip the sword from Borimir's strong grasp. But what he did not expect was Borimir's raw strength.

Despite the leverage that Peter had, Borimir stubbornly held on to his sword. But the effort it took to keep his sword cost Borimir. Peter immediately found another opening. Once again he darted in with lethal swiftness, bring Rhindon around in a half-crescent swing.

"Look out!"

There was a flash of brown and green and Borimir stumbled. Rhindon's path had suddenly become a killing strike. Cerulean eyes widened and without thinking he shifted his feet's position, changing Rhindon's route enough that it completely missed Borimir. His ankle rolled as his body twisted unnaturally and Peter could not stop the ground from rushing up to meet him.

Peter felt his head connect with a sharp, stabbing pain and was abruptly engulfed in darkness.


End file.
